


Scotch and Ovaltine

by Pretending2BeMe



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Boarding School, M/M, Sex but not, Sexually Charged, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5081744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pretending2BeMe/pseuds/Pretending2BeMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an unexpected soaking, Jeremy needs to get changed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scotch and Ovaltine

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two columns that Jeremy wrote about his schooldays (the dates of which escape me at the moment). The bully mentioned in the story is my own creation. This was supposed to be a gentle h/c fic but, well, this happened instead.

Jeremy squelched through the door of his dorm and, kicking off his shoes, he slung his sopping wet blazer in the corner. Looking up, he spotted Wilman, stretched out on his – _his!_ \- bed at the far end of the room, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Bloody hell, Clarkson, what happened to you?”

“I was coming back from prep when Taylor and his mob ambushed me and shoved me in the swimming pool. Again.” explained Jeremy in annoyance.

Unable to help himself, Andy exploded in a fit of giggles, “Oh dear god, he’s really got it in for you hasn’t he!”

Jeremy padded down the length of the room, leaving a trail of drips and wet footprints behind him, “I’m glad you find it amusing, Wilman,” he moaned. Pulling off his tie, he leant over Andy’s still chuckling form and squeezed the water from the wet fabric directly over his face.

“Fuck off, you lunatic,” Andy squealed as he sprang upright. Wiping his face on his sleeve he asked, “What is it between you and Taylor, anyway?”

“Oh, it all started because he insisted that Wranglers are better jeans than Levi’s,” explained Jeremy as he retrieved his towel from his wardrobe.

“The bloke’s a prick,” stated Andy, obviously.

“Quite,” muffled Jeremy as he rubbed his hair dry.

“Is there any Scotch left?” Andy asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, it’s under the floor, why?”

Laying himself down, Andy wriggled underneath Jeremy’s bed to locate the loose floorboard that served as their secret indoor hideaway, “Well, I don’t want to sound like your mother, but you’ll catch your death if you stay in those wet things much longer and you’re a nightmare when you’re ill.”

“Oh thank you for your concern, Dr Finlay,” teased Jeremy.

Having found what he was looking for, Andy wormed his way out of the tiny space and twisted himself round to sit cross-legged at Jeremy’s feet. Brandishing the bottle, he looked up at Jeremy with a grin, “I was thinking that a mug of Scotch and Ovaltine might act as a pre-emptive strike against the dreaded lurgy.”

“Nice idea, I like it,” nodded Jeremy as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt. “Wait while I get changed and I’ll come down to the kitchen with you.”

As Jeremy stood in front of him, Andy felt his breath quicken; part of him didn’t want to look but another, bigger part of him insisted. There was something about Jeremy’s ridiculously long legs that sent him crazy and from his vantage point on the floor he had the perfect view - of them and way more besides.

Jeremy slowly and deliberately eased each of his shirt buttons from its hole. He knew that Andy liked to watch him and, in truth, Jeremy liked him watching. It wasn’t something that they ever talked about, it was just something that happened; something brilliant but forbidden that they both silently shared.

As Jeremy turned round, Andy had a perfect view of his back. The soaked fabric was almost transparent and it clung to him beautifully, showing off his shoulder blades and the slight bulge of muscle in his upper arms. Stretching his arms behind him, Jeremy felt the cool white cotton wrinkle across his skin and a small shiver ran through him; he could almost feel Andy’s eyes on him and he wanted it – needed it – more and more. Intent on making the moment last, as much for him as for Andy, Jeremy pulled his arms in front of him to cross over his chest. He felt his shirt slide and tighten over his shoulders and he bit back a gasp as a heavy drop of water ran down his spine.

Andy sat, legs crossed and arms splayed behind him, drinking in Jeremy’s every move. He knew that he was showing off for him and he loved him for it. Despite Jeremy being stupidly tall and naturally clumsy, there was something almost graceful at times about the way he moved, his long limbs working with him instead of against him and as Andy watched, he felt himself fall and in that instant, he knew that he would never be able to get enough of Jeremy Charles Robert Clarkson.

Jeremy took hold of the front placket of his shirt and little by little he began to ease the material down. Andy continued to watch as the collar fell from his neck, making Jeremy’s long, damp curls spring out only to settle again against his nape. As he pulled back and down, the yoke fabric began to bunch with the main body of the shirt, making it pull away from the skin of his shoulders in hundreds of tiny, translucent rivulets. For Andy, it was as if everything was happening in slow motion and as his world shrunk to nothing more than Jeremy’s movements and the sound of his own shallow breaths, something dangerous snaked its way though him and it took everything he had not to reach out to touch - to kiss - the damp swathe of muscled shoulder blade that was slowly being displayed before him.

Once his arms were free from the sleeves, Jeremy paused for a second and sucked in a few breaths. He urgently needed to calm himself down before he turned and faced Andy. Although they had played the same wordless game many times, they were leading each other closer and closer to something that neither was certain they could return from and Jeremy, being the elder, felt that he needed to be the one to keep the boundaries in place lest their feelings should erupt and rip them apart.

Turning round, Jeremy stepped forward and planted his bare feet firmly on either side of Andy’s knees. As he dipped his head to look at Andy, his worries instantly fell away as he saw his own feelings reflected back at him in his friend’s deep brown eyes. He saw the desire, the want and the longing but he also saw the tiniest amount of fear and because of that, he knew that they were both safe, at least for now. Oddly, it was that minuscule spark that gave Jeremy the bravery he needed to continue.

Laying his damp hands on either side of his torso, he splayed his fingers to lie between each of his ribs, emphasising them a little. Pausing only for a second, Jeremy felt the chill seep into his skin making him shudder. Sliding his hands slowly over his hips, he brought them to rest in the centre of his thighs where he pushed the flat of his palms into the soaked fabric of his jeans forcing the water to ooze between and trickle down his fingers. Resisting the urge to flick Andy in the face, Jeremy dug his fingers in slightly and scratched his way back up in the same unhurried manner as before. The vibrations of his nails over the coarse denim coupled with the icy droplets running in rapid tendrils down his shins made him pant a little and a momentary flash of panic spiked in him - After all, danger lay in getting carried away – but it wasn’t enough for him to stop, they were both too far gone for that to happen.

As Jeremy reached the waistband of his jeans and his long fingers snaked their way around to the top button of his fly, Andy’s world screeched to a halt and he held his breath. This was his favourite part of the game and he revelled in the tingles that ran through his adrenaline-fuelled system. He dug his fingers into the carpet and, focusing on the pulse-beat that thudded through him, he willed himself still. He wanted nothing to spoil the moment.

Looking Andy straight in the eye, Jeremy couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he slid the top button of his jeans open. Pausing for effect, he felt the electricity of anticipation crackle in the atmosphere. Biting his bottom lip and throwing Andy a wink he gripped the soaked denim tight in his fists and yanked at his fly.

The heavy silence in the room was shattered by the tinny, echoing rattle of five Levi buttons simultaneously popping free of their fastenings. The breath that Andy had been holding flew out of him in a rush and Jeremy, eyes screwed shut, threw back his head and hissed between his teeth.

Both Jeremy and Andy were consumed by their own deafening heartbeats and heaving breaths but neither dared to move as they tried desperately to wring every last second from the wonderful, trembling sensations that fired between them. The release of the buttons always signalled the end and each felt the surge of release stronger than any orgasm.

After a minute, Jeremy broke the spell by stepping backwards and flopping down onto his bed with a sigh. Swiftly shaking his head, Andy stood up and busied himself by collecting Jeremy’s clothes and draping them over the radiator. By the time he was finished, Jeremy was dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

“If I get one crack from you, Wilman, you’ll be the one getting launched into the swimming pool,” Jeremy said, as if the last few moments hadn’t happened.

Andy held out his hands in supplication, “Did I say a word? If you want to walk around in that tartan effort, that’s up to you.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s not my fault that my mum thinks I live in an Enid Blyton novel. At least my dressing gown isn’t candlewick like yours.”

“Sod off, Clarkson, I’ve told you before, it’s not candlewick it’s just fluffy. Do you want Scotch and Ovaltine or not?”

“Course I do, come on.” Jeremy picked up the bottle of whiskey from the floor and slipped it into his dressing gown pocket.  Reaching the door, he paused, “I’ve just realised; you were in my room when I came in, why?”

Andy looked up at Jeremy and smiled; his face the very picture of innocence, “Oh, no reason.”

The End


End file.
